Arizona weekly enterprise., 1887-06-11

l world as you had bidden mo. I tried to be mundane and heartless--te forget. My life now was changed. My father was named ambassador at a foreign court. We spent several years out of France. and existence was one prolonged wEirl of pleasure and excitement But 1 never forgot''-
 She flashed upon him the light of her pure, lovely eyes, and said passionately:
 ''I chung to one memory; I lived in it still. And when I returned to Paris few months ago, an orphan, mistress of my own fortunes, alone in the world, | learned your strange story. Force of con viction had led you to change your re- Ngion. Like myself, you were free?'
 The very sound of that word seemed to | have magic for her ears. The timid, hesi- l tating look of appeal vanished, her voice grew strong, firm, exultant. Tears rose to the sweet eyes and trembled on the delicately flushed cheek, but they were tears of pure joy.
 ''For, of course,n she said, gathering his, bands to her ovvra.11tias 'Vvorda she had ' just uttered, almost to her own thinking, made them already one-''it is of yourself I have been speaking all this time, and I was not surely wrong; you loved me, did you nots To think then of the joy I felt when learned what had happened. For tho first time in my life rejoiced in the fact that was rich Ohl said to my self, now at last my wealth can be turned to noble uses In his hands it will be- come thing to glory in. I do not care for splendor or ease, indeed I do not, ," she said, emphasizing the words with art less sincerity. q could be quite happy in such home as this, by your side But you were made for a lofty position, you were born to rule. Think, then, how use fu1 my large fortune will be to you. If, indeed, it is better religion, a higher truth that you now follow, you may be the means of persuading many. I have planned it all. We will build beautiful Protestant church in Paris; from far and wide people will flock to hear you, Once more you will be in your proper sphere, for 1 am sure you cannot be happy or quite satisfied here. This career of a country pastor is too narrow, too circum scribed, for Aatufe like yours. , ,
 He bowed acpIiescingly. Yes, it was all true So much his face said. HAll that have is yours, she went on;
 ssthe vast fortune my father left me, the
 hotel in Paris, the chateau in Touraine,
 these are as dross to me, and Ill l care
 for, I live for, is this - s.s .;4
 The clear impassioned voice broke down;
 the fair head dropped; the hand she held
 to her heart was kissed and bedeWed with tears. sts ;.
 Throughout the latter part of their in l terview the pastor had seemed under a
 spell Once or twice he was fain to inter l rllpt, but utterances failed him. He, too, was flushed, fearful, shaken in every l limb. Those last wild words, those burn l ing tears and kisses on his hand, broke the charm and recalled hian to realities. He
 rose now and for rnoInentstood over heI with strange expression, as If he were
 calling down the blessings of heaven upon
 her fair head: as if, indeed, he were Shrink J ing from some angelG sion a.at < 5e ,|s
 Then, without word, he led her to 'tilt
 Window. 7 1 Itlooked upon the long narrow garder
 stretching from the house and little church
 now flooded with warm sunshine. Al
 was calm, golden, peaceful; yet Georgetts
 gazed with sudden. unexplained sinkins
 of the heart. At thes farther end, under
 the shadow of a lofty plane tree, was
 deal table, and by it stood patient faced
 woman, evidently belonging to the peasant
 class busily ironing. Hornely as was hel
 appearance, it was, nevertheless, not with
 out g certain dignity and pathos Shs
 looked so absorbed in the business of iron
 ing, so forgetfql of self, so lost to a sens,
 of fleyetything but the matter of fact, pro
 saic task before her
 4 Yeu See yender poor good woman,
 thH pastor said, as the pair thus watched
 the unconscious figure from the window II lQTed anotherE 5vh0se story you hay, Just told. But the first act of my ney life, and newjy aweakeued conscience, va :. to atone. to her he'd wronged in m youth ' i { s.sss, 7 ss : l. And loII1anQc had now surely hocke. {, at that parsonage door for the first. las time. With burning teafs, a hand c1asp
 a whispered word, and one long, hngerin gaze into each others eyes, the tw i; parted. Who shall say ever to mee z agaiiy
 } Strange as it would seem at first sight
 this Hateful meeting little infected th z tenor of their outward lives It was as 5 all the daring, all the hefoisrn, all tn
 force of these two characters had bee . already spent; by Georgette de Beaumon ] upon the initiative that had been the. on ] truly fine act of her life; by the pastor | upon the twofold sacrifice made for con , science sake He had suddenly foun 7 himself at the parting of the ways; on tn l one hand, beckoned worldly fortune 7 the esteem of the great, a command r ing social position; on the othe t poverty, scorn, an abnormal condition < but, coupled with these, a conscience 8 : rest. Then came the second choice. H
 might make material atonement to th i peasant girl he had wronged years before 5 He might then, having dismissed this sui 3 .ject of self reproaeh, think of the firesid l Nappiness no longer denied him, and eve |. dream of Georgette, the beautlfr 2 Georgettei
 Once the straight path taken, the temp 1, ing traverse lost sight of forever, ' seemed to lose all ambition, all enterprise 1, even all capacity of looking forward.
 Again and again after that interyie, , Georgette tried to rouse him from hi
 lethargy and entice him from the dea alive country town in which he was los to the world. Yet he seemed not UT , happy, rather passive and automatic, as , the strings of passion and action wer s stopped forever, brought to a standstill b , some rude shock.
 , It was the same with Georgette. Afte I that journey to the parsonage amid th l vines, she returned whither she had come I and continued to live in the world. Agai
 and again suitors demanded her hand, bu , she steadfastly refused to marry.-'sM. E